


Possessive

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BDSM, Dom/sub, Erotica, Explicit Sexual Content, Ficlet, M/M, Not Epilogue Compliant, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-War, Slash, The Quidditch Pitch: The Changing Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-17
Updated: 2010-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-27 11:59:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10808583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Neville stakes his claim.





	Possessive

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Written for Round 3 at speedpr0nz.

“What is this?” Neville walked into the bathroom, copy of that day’s _Daily Prophet_ in his hand.

Harry blinked at the unaccustomed invasion of privacy and reached for his flannel, using it to cover himself even though Neville had already seen everything there was to see on a near-daily basis for the past eight months. “What’s what?”

“ _This_.” Neville shoved the paper under Harry’s nose, where even with his myopia it was impossible to miss the photograph of him laughing with Draco Malfoy. Worse, it showed him laughing, then jumping as Draco appeared to squeeze his arse, followed by more laughter. “Care to share the story? Because if the two of you are planning to get back together, I’d rather hear it from you first rather than read it on the gossip page.”

Pushing the paper away from his face, Harry sank deeper into the tub. “He’s still perfectly happy dating anyone and everyone who’ll have him,” he answered petulantly. “I saw him last night, and we were just reminiscing a bit, that’s all. It was only a bit of fun, honest.”

“It looked like more than a _bit_ of fun to me.” Neville tossed the paper aside, disgusted and hurt and struggling again with the feeling that he wasn’t enough, he’d never be good enough. Never mind that he was a hero of the war, it was a feeling that he’d wrestled with his entire life, and he feared it would never leave him entirely. “Finish your bath. I’ll go make breakfast.”

“Neville, wait.” Harry reached out, grabbing Neville’s wrist and stilling him. “It really was nothing. Draco’s still with Higgs, and I’m still in love with _you_. You’re daft if you think anything else. Me and my arse are yours and no one else’s. Promise.”

Neville let out a sigh as Harry tugged him closer, lips tracing the blue veins along the inside of his wrist, green eyes peering up into his. “I know that, Harry. It was – it was just a nasty shock, seeing that photo first thing in the morning.”

“I’m sure it was. It wasn’t well done of me, allowing myself to get into that situation in the first place,” Harry said, using his other hand to pull the bath plug, allowing the water in the tub to begin draining. “I imagine Draco and Terence are having a similar conversation right now, except maybe with more yelling and pouting and possible throwing of things.”

Neville’s lips twitched into a half-smile in spite of himself, picturing the scene. “You’re probably right.”

Harry pressed his lips to Neville’s wrist again. “You could punish me,” he murmured against the thin skin, breath warm. “I’ve been a naughty boy, with proof in black and white. Do your worst.”

“Oh, trust me, I will.” Neville drew back, scanning the contents of the bathroom countertop, and grabbed his toothbrush. Pulling his wand from his robe pocket, he concentrated and Transfigured the toothbrush into a wide wooden paddle, its flat surface lined with two rows of holes. He gave it a few swings, letting the paddle whistle ominously through the air, and gave Harry a predatory smile. “Get on your hands and knees.”

Harry gulped but obeyed, lifting his dripping wet arse high into the air, offering it to Neville and his paddle. Neville admired the water droplets clinging to the rounded curves for a moment, then lifted his paddle and let fly.

Harry howled as the first blow landed, rising up onto his fingertips. Neville watched his buttocks turn red, and swatted him again, eliciting another howl.

“Tell me you’re sorry,” Neville ordered, striking Harry a third time with the paddle. “Tell me you’re sorry, and once I believe you, I’ll stop.”

The paddle thudded again across Harry’s arse, and again, and again as Neville settled into a regular rhythm of blows, spreading them evenly across both arse cheeks and watching the pale skin blush from red, to scarlet, to crimson. Harry rocked back into each blow, rising onto his fingertips each time the paddle connected with his backside, crying out, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, oh _fuck_ I’m sorry, it’ll never happen again, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

Finally, Neville stopped, dropping the paddle onto the tiled floor. “I believe you,” he said softly, running his palm gently over Harry’s heated buttocks. Harry quivered beneath the soft caress, head hanging down and choking back a sob. “Have you learned your lesson?”

“No more incriminating photos in the newspaper,” Harry answered fervently. “I promise.”

Giving Harry a pat on his blazing arse, Neville retrieved his wand, kneeling beside the tub. “Hold still.”

Whispering a spell, Neville slid the wand between Harry’s cheeks, pressing it against Harry’s tight hole and pushing it inside. The wand began thrusting into Harry, making him moan. Resting his palm against Harry’s lower back, Neville reached inside the bathtub with his other hand, fingers closing around Harry’s cock and stroking, feeling it harden and lengthen in his hand. Harry’s moans changed quickly from pain to pleasure, hips pushing forward into Neville’s palm and back against the wand fucking his arse, rocking back and forth in an ever-increasing, frantic rhythm until he cried out and came with a shudder, his semen painting bottom of the tub with pearly strings.

Tugging at Harry’s hair, Neville pulled him into a fierce, open-mouthed kiss. “There,” he breathed. “Just a reminder that your arse is _mine_.”

“Yours,” Harry replied, the word breathy.

Rising to his feet, Neville changed the paddle back into a toothbrush and put it away. “Breakfast will be ready in ten,” he said, watching Harry reach gingerly for a towel. “I made your favourite.”


End file.
